


Incalescent

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [160]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6219439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>incalescent: adjective: in-kuh-les-uh nt: increasing in heat or ardour</p><p>17th century: present participle of incalēscere, to grow warm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incalescent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiveainley_ohmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/gifts).



> yes...you get your proposal...

The first time they touched, it felt like he had caught on fire, or he had been awakened from a still life...something poetic like that. But, he wasn't poetic, or romantic. John would tell you that. Five years later, as he watched John through plastic safety goggles, he found himself amazed that their love was still incalescent. He had thought eventually his desire for the smaller, spiky, solid man currently searching for that last bit of jam in the fridge would diminish, cool down, soften at the edges, somehow.

No. He sighed, and turned off the blow torch, whatever he had been doing could wait. "I think you used the last bit yesterday, John."

John heard something in his voice that made him pull out of the fridge, turn and face him. 

"Ta, I forgot, I was going to pick some up last night after that case, but...I got a bit distracted by something...wonder what it could've been...."

"John...."

"Yeah..."

"You still...somehow...uhm...hmmm...that is...damn."

"Yeah."

"I know we don't really need to do anything formal or fancy, but..bollocks...I...if I don't get through this..."

"Breathe? Try breathing?"

"Arse."

John smiled that indulgent half smirk at him, the one that he used when other people were around, the one that made him calm and turned him on simultaneously.

"Right, breathing. Check. Five years ago today, you rescued me from the rain outside that pub, took me to your bedsit, and saved me with tea and your empathy..."

"Sherlock-"

"Let me finish?"

John nodded. His eyes were turning that deep indigo that reminded him...focus-

"...five years later, you are still here, still remarkably here by my side. You know I suck at this kind of stuff, but, will you marry me?"

*

*

*

*

"John?"

"Sorry. Hmmm...funny...somehow I thought I'd have to ask you...just always got cold feet, or something came up, and then I thought maybe that it would change things between us, muck things up...I didn't hmm...realize how much I wanted you to ask me...yeah, love...of course. Course, I'll marry you."

They looked at each other and laughed. Sherlock was still holding the torch in one hand, he had picked up the eyeball again, in his nervousness, and the safety goggles still covered half of his face...

"Put down the torch, put the eyeball away and take those ridiculous glasses off your face, wash your hands, and then I'm going to kiss you until you pass out."

"Your tea will get cold..."

"It's already cold."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You ridiculous, beautiful, brilliant man. I love you."

"John."

"Love?"

"Thank you."

John moved to stand in front of Sherlock, pushed the goggles into his hair, grinned softly and kissed him on the nose.

"Thank you, love."


End file.
